"Oh god, I... I can't believe it." Sara leant forward, her head almost between her knees. She felt physically sick after hearing what she'd just heard. She felt the hand of Alison on her back, comforting her as if this was a sick joke.
"Don't worry, I can keep this between us." Sara turned to look at Alison,
"What? Is this where you ask me to give you money for your silence?" Sara was genuinely angry; anyone would be in her situation. She'd been asked over to Alison's house, their neighbour Alison from across the adjoining garden for, what she thought, was just a sit-down drink on a nice afternoon. As it turned out, it was much more than that. It was an ambush.
Recently, Sara had been more than just her usual self, and the standard suburban life she'd lived with her husband for the best part of 25 years now, had recently been upended by the advances of her own son. One day, a few weeks ago he put her in a situation where she let him have his way with her in the kitchen, ending with her bent over the kitchen counter, his cum dripping from inside her as she processed what had just happened. Then, about a week later, he made another advance on her whilst sunbathing in the garden that ended up with her sucking his cock, his cum covering her face, and then him going down between her legs, all right there in the garden. That last encounter she'd had a passing thought about someone seeing her, but in the following days and weeks she thought she'd gotten away without anyone seeing them... until now that was.
"Of course not, that's crass and would imply I thought what I saw was wrong." Alison stood up and walked out of the living room they were both sat in, disappearing into the kitchen. Sara thought about that, if Alison didn't think it was wrong, then why had she brought her here? "What kind of wine do you like?" Alison called from the other room,
"White. Pinot." Sara replied instinctively. She thought about making a run for it, just getting out of here and seeing what happened if she just tried to leave this all behind and run back to her normal life. Her son, Sam, hadn't made any moves on her in the past two weeks, so it might just be completely alright if she left here right now. Before she could make a move for anything though, Alison appeared with a chilled bottle of white wine and two glasses.
"I apologise, I didn't have any pinot, so I hope a Sauvignon Blanc is alright for you?" Alison said, beginning to pour out the wine. Sara nodded, and Alison poured out her glass as well.
"If you're not going to blackmail me then... what are you going to do?" Sara asked, looking warily at Alison, who took a sip of her wine.
"Well, I want to talk to you about what I saw." She smiled as she leant forward a little, Sara noticing that as she did, she now had a great view of her breasts. Even if she wasn't into women, Alison's size was apparent, and it was almost a natural reaction for her eyes to look down.
"Why do you want to talk about it?" Sara asked, trying not to let her eyes be drawn to the ever so clear cleavage,
"Because I'm interested," Alison said, taking another sip of her wine and adjusting her top a little, seeming to show more of her breasts, "I want to talk to a woman who has such a... close connection with her son. I want to know how you and your son came together to be so open about your relationship."
"It's not a relationship." Sara said quickly, her nerves were building as she even said that, for the first time admitting something happened. She grabbed the remaining glass of wine and took a big gulp. Whatever she said next could determine the rest of her life. Having her own son make advances on her was one thing, but talking to another person about this, admitting it happened was another. She realised that she'd basically drank half the glass of wine as she was thinking that all over, and the silence was left hanging. Alison wasn't going to speak first, she had all the time in the world, plus there was nothing at stake for her, other than finding out about some juicy gossip.
"Well, it started a few weeks ago..." Sara began, watching as Alison leant in close to her, listening intently to every word she said, her eyes filled with a carnal desire to hear about something that no mother should ever do with her son, let alone admit it to another person.
***
Sara sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. It had been a few days since she'd talked to Alison, and the talk had been so helpful for her, to be able to tell someone about her feelings, the emotions she had about what was going on. Alison, it turned out, was a licenced therapist, and so she walked Sara through everything, asking her questions and being able to make her see how she really felt about the situation. Sara had given her $10 to seal the entire conversation being the legal privilege, that meant if she told anyone, Sara could sue her for it; though it was clear Alison wasn't going to say anything to anyone, as she was excited to talk to Sara about everything.
The more they drank that afternoon, the more Sara said, and the more it made Alison push to ask her questions. Alison was fascinated by the subject, she didn't have a son of her own, but as she later admitted that a mother-son relationship was something she thought about a lot. It was clear that she wanted to hear the entire story from Sara, and once it was clear Alison wasn't going to tell anyone else, Sara told her everything. They concluded that it was clear Sam's feelings had been building for a while, and though nowhere near as strong as his, so had Sara's; having a handsome, young man who looks a lot like a younger version of one's husband does that (especially when said husband is typically not there).
However, as much as they had fun discussing these sexual encounters, Alison pointed out there it was clear Sam had all the power here, and as much as Sara might have enjoyed what happened, consent had been glossed over to get there. Sara didn't harbour any resentment for both encounters, and although she hadn't said no, it was clear that Sam pushed passed her brief refusals in a way that was unacceptable. So, a plan was concocted by the two of them to gain some of her agency back from him.
Sara had called Sam about half an hour ago, he'd been out doing some necessary, boring errands, though nothing that was incredibly urgent, and she knew he'd want to come back home for this. She told him she was waiting in her bedroom for him, and that we were going to talk about what happened. What she didn't say was that she was waiting for him in some of her best lingerie: stockings held up by suspenders attached to a lace garter belt, a meticulously designed bra, and panties that were see-through if one looked for long enough, all of them (aside from the stockings) black lace; on top of it all was a red satin dressing gown that ended at her thighs, covering the outfit but not the stockings. She also wore a pair of black high heels, making her body look better when she stood up. Her make-up was done as well, with vibrant red lipstick and smoky eyes that Alison had helped her with. She knew she looked better than she ever had in the past 10 years, and she knew Sam would not be able to resist her... but then again, that was the point.
She heard the front door open. She felt her mouth go dry. Standing up from the bed, she realised that she hadn't prepared anything to say. Of course, her and Alison had planned out the ideas, but not what she was literally going to say to Sam.
She could hear his footsteps on the stairs. She moved over to the mirror in the room, looking at her reflection. What was she doing? She was going to talk to her son like this? Surely, he'd get the wrong message. Well, talking wasn't the plan really it was to... well, talk to him and then fuck him. There, she'd admitted it, she was about to fuck her own son again.
